Monday, March 25, 2013

Sirocco and Saharan Sands

Phoenix is covered in Saharan sand.

A sirocco blew for three, four days last week. A southern wind which sweeps across the Sahara, picking up the desert sands and blanketing the northern Mediterranean countries. 

The African storm wails at speeds around 40 knots, darkens the day and tints the sky an eerie shade of pinkish beige.

Ominous sky in Crete stained by the sands of a sirocco. 
While walking through the town, our eyes blink more often to wash away the itch. Phoenix yearns for a thorough washing.

Saharan sands settle in the deckway of Phoenix.
Little bits of the desert in every nook and cranny.
As I write, we are having another windstorm out of the south. Today it's predicted to blow 9 beaufort with gusts to 11. That's  45 knots (50 mph) with gusts to "Oh Shit!" Being inside the boat feels like being out to sea in a storm. She yanks back and forth at the dock lines and heels over suddenly in strong gusts. We don't get much sleep when it blows like that.

The sand seeps in everywhere and settles inside as well.

All this sand reminds of the line from your favorite movie, "Raising Arizona." One cell mate is passing time by talking about his impoverished childhood.

"When there was no meat, we ate fowl and when there was no fowl, we ate crawdad and when there was no crawdad to be found, we ate sand."


abbot said...
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abbot said...

all that sand and dust, outside, inside... getting into every nook and cranny

Obvious to anyone that knows her, Jennifer must be going bat-shit crazy !

The question is, in what way ?.....

In the lead up to a storm, as the ominous cloud is approaching,...

is she freaking out knowing that her affliction will soon force her, "sans miele".... back to the front lines in a fruitless, infinite battle that can't be won ?

... or is she all jacked up and excited, head swimming with full on manic anticipation of the coming jackpot of cleaning opportunities to satiate her cleaning neurosis ?

and how about after the cleanup is done, after what must be an exhaustive manic firestorm of world class neatnicking on an epic scale, fully satisfied, contented in a job well done ?

....or melancholy in the still, clear air... countless hours on watch, scanning the vhf for weather reports and standing vigil on deck looking to the southern sky, quietly yearning for the slightest indication of a distant sirocco that may draw near and bless Phoenix with a mother lode of the dark continents finest treasures ?